


The Painted Lady's Blessings

by anotherfandomok



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Typical Childhood Trauma (Mentioned), Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, I didn't specifically write it as soulmates but it definitely turned into that haha, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV The Painted Lady (Avatar), Soulmates, The Painted Lady Watches Over The Gaang, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherfandomok/pseuds/anotherfandomok
Summary: The girl bold enough to invoke her name catches her attention, and she watches over the children trying to save the world. She sees a relationship blossom the likes of which the world hasn't seen in many years. Strength, love, and found family are wound within their fates, and she helps where she can.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Painted Lady & The Gaang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	1. How It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wouldn't rest until I wrote it at like three am. Basically an excuse for me to write poetry disguised as third person omniscient POV for Zukka without having to write dialogue lol.

She is always watching. Always doing her best to protect. Even when she cannot take physical action, she tries to provide a calming or loving feeling. She watches over the girl who was bold enough to invoke the name of a spirit to do what needed to be done. She follows her journey, watching from the spirit world, remembering each occasion when the girl and her friends do what is right even when it is hard. She observes the girl, the Avatar, and their companions. Each of them contains their own kind of sanctity and treasure. They all hold strength - strength that they shouldn't be forced to have at their age, but strength nonetheless. They protect each other and those around them. Those they do not know. She looks down on them day after day as they tirelessly travel the world seeking an end to destruction and a reincarnation of humanity and hope. 

Her attention is often caught by the two boys on the fringes of the action. The girl is the main player, and they support her, but they have come to know each other in a way far braver and more kind than many of those three times their age. One, with his centered ponytail and fingerless gloves, proudly bearing the colors of his homeland. The other, with shaggy black hair and a scar, smiling without hesitance for what she knows to be the first time in years. One, with a necklace that shows and represents his love for a place he will always return to. The other just beginning to find himself, through his style as well as his personality. Both with their childhoods cruelly stolen away from them. Both, essentially suffering from the same hand. Both, finding solace and warmth in the other slowly but surely, like honey sinking and dissolving in a glass of water. 

It begins with hesitant contact, lingering glances. A pat on the shoulder, a private shared smile. A brush of hands, a hip bump, a ruffling of hair. The joking that children easily fall into, light teasing and games that involve running and tackling. This is followed by the hard conversations, when they both sit awake in the quietest hours of the night. Arms pressed together, faces turned slightly towards each other, a comforting hand on the small of the back. Tears are shared, wiped away, reciprocated, and left to soak into the earth and nurture new life and growth in more ways than one. Shaking forms embrace quietly. Acceptance blooms. Love soon follows. The fear of imminent battle coaxes lingering hugs and secure hand holding. They become a force. Combined. A first kiss is shared deep in the woods on a carefree afternoon. Many follow. Hands gently running through hair, fingers tapping on thighs that don't belong to them (but really, kind of do), warm breaths ghosting across cheeks and chins. 

Joy blossoms as the grass around the group grows ever greener. A trick of the earth, perhaps. A gift from the spirit world, more likely. Their understanding binds the wanderers more than anyone thought previously possible. The inseparable unit of five (or sometimes more - humans are always in flux, like the sturdiest oak branches that wave in the wind but never snap) follows a path laid for them with care and attention. Pain waits along it: grief, sorrow, and numbness. But resilience is strengthened through compassion, presence, simple happinesses, and family. The painted lady does not care for restrictive constructions, but this group has created anything but. Their love for one another shines through every interaction, every silent awareness. 

Each member of the family has a separate path to tread within the intertwined destiny of them all, but the overlaps provide reprieve, buoyancy, and a recharge of energy from more than one source. 

The boys' paths lay side by side, that they may walk hand in hand. Blessings fall upon them like the world has not seen in millennia. Touching the hearts of all those that surround them, cradling each with the utmost care, they trace their way through the minds of generations to come.


	2. The Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Water Tribe Boy learns to accept help and love as he fights internal battles, coming out the other side stronger than ever.

Their struggles were mirrors, but instead of reflecting them back upon each other they dove into them and worked through the repeating, distorted frights together. The Water Tribe boy faced down the perception of worth and found validity and appreciation. However, this internal acceptance was not achieved without submitting to the arduous process of vulnerability. 

The road to self acceptance is steep and rocky, littered with obstacles left by those fighting their own battles and discarding their own baggage. Ancestors and relatives have often dropped boulders in the path unintentionally, but children must get past them nevertheless. History is the biggest perpetrator of these dangers. Human nature necessitates conflict, and inevitable pain echoes infinitely as a result. 

The boy does not know many of these people that have unintentionally cluttered his path, but he shares his society with them. They all have similar burdens, placed upon them by the war. The boy seeks to accept his hurt and help it find a place in his life that is not overwhelming. He has friends and love to assist him in that task. 

His blue eyes set, hand firmly grasped in the fire prince’s, he trudges up this path, squeezing along the sheer cliff face. Sometimes the two of them were forced to let go of each other to crawl through tunnels barely big enough to fit through. Sometimes they felt like Orpheus and Eurydice, but they always had the freedom to look. To drink in. Death can wait around every corner, and Orpheus couldn’t save Eurydice, but the boys had the spirit world on their side. 

The painted lady looks out for them as they stumble along the obscured path. In reality, it should not be called a path. There is truth in the saying about “forging one’s own way,” and the boys struggle into the depths. Sometimes they are forced to stop. Sometimes a well-loved boomerang hits the dirt out of frustration, sometimes sobs wrack the warrior’s body, sometimes his limbs are so weary they are barely capable of movement. 

But every hard won step helped teach him that he was worthy. More than worthy. That he was an equal. By the time he reached the top, he realized that he deserved happiness, love, and safety. 

War does terrible things. The most insidious is that it plants seeds of doubt deep in the soil that everyone brings to their internal battlefield. Digging these seeds back up hurts hands, rips fingernails off. Everyone becomes caked in the dirt that they worked so hard to lay. Sometimes the seeds have already germinated by the time the arduous process is begun - this nearly always makes things more difficult. Yanking by the stem can seem like a simple solution, but roots are always deeper than they seem. 

The boys worked relentlessly to clear the other’s fields and sow flowers comparable in beauty to the ones they already saw in each other. The work never ends. Risk cannot be eliminated. But the spirits watched over them as they needed each other and their friends, saw how truly they celebrated their wins and their togetherness. Being able to lean on others is a strength that they all learned together, and the painted lady was proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I referenced Orpheus and Eurydice because I'm gay. What about it. Thanks for reading! Next chapter will touch on Zuko's internal struggles a bit more :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have a few other chapters written out with similar vibes to this one, but if you have an idea that you want me to explore please drop a comment - I am very easily inspired and this is the first time I'm actually posting something I've written haha. I hope you all have a lovely day xx :)


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